


eyeless corpse

by summerdayghost



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dream Sex, Hand Jobs, Horror, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23593222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerdayghost/pseuds/summerdayghost
Summary: Henry’s heard plenty of stories.
Relationships: Henry Bowers/Richie Tozier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 61
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	eyeless corpse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



Henry’s dad told two kinds of stories about his time in Korea.

The first kind was more lecture than story. Often these stories had a larger audience than just Henry despite them being tailored directly for him because humiliation was just as much a part of the point as teaching a lesson. Henry’s dad would have been content to let shame and open sores be his only education if it weren’t for truancy laws.

Anything other than perfection would not be tolerated. Henry started his career of juvenile delinquency before he could spell his name and his father had disapproved of him ever since. It was not really worth trying to turn things around. Even if Henry had been a goody two shoes from the start, had done things like helped his kindergarten teacher quiet the classroom down instead of throwing thumbtacks at her, his father still would have had reason to hate him. Some things ran down to the core of a person. Things that could not be helped.

These stories were told straight postured and with booming authority. They were gallant tales of real fucking men with valor and honor and real virtues and shit. Noble and brave soldiers who were not weak little pansy bitches. Basically everything Henry was not and could never be from the perspective of his father.

While those stories likely had an element of truth to them in the abstract way that stuff like folklore and fucking Greek mythology did around the age of thirteen Henry realized they were all bullshit. They were too neat, always wrapped up and with a perfect moral and a bow. Real violence was not like that. Henry had inflicted enough to know. Henry had been on the receiving end of enough to know.

The second kind, however, were absolutely true. Henry had no doubts about that. They were too messy not to be true. His dad usually told these stories at night, sometimes in the morning, but always, always when they were completely alone. He spoke quieter than usual, as close to a murmur as a man like him could get, and Henry was never sure if he was actually the one being addressed or if he was merely a convenient stand in. These ramblings had no real point but sorrow and anger and they usually made no sense. All they really did in the long run was both of them feel sick for a little while afterwards.

It was during the second sort of story that his father would talk about the eyeless corpse. Whether this corpse was one his father found or created was unclear to Henry as was whether it had once belonged to an American or a Korean or what. He was pretty sure it was man but even that was up in the air. For all Henry could tell maybe his father had encountered multiple eyeless corpses in Korea and differentiating them simply never crossed his mind.

Remembering what his father had to say about the eyeless corpse was why removing Richie’s glasses was the first Henry did after shoving him against the wall. The eyes were the window to the soul. Seeing eyes covered up like that at such a close range made Henry profoundly uncomfortable even if it technically was better than him having no eyes at all.

Henry had hated those glasses since Richie had started regularly featuring in his dreams. He could never see what color Richie’s eyes or even what they were doing were from under his glasses in dreams no matter how hard he tried. It made Henry feel like he couldn’t breathe.

They were not bad dreams however. Not by any stretch of the imagination. The way his subconscious had decided it would feel putting Richie’s dumb fucking mouth to good use was quite pleasant.

In his dreams Richie sucked cock like it was his only purpose. To be fair, technically speaking, sucking cock was indeed Richie’s only purpose in dream land. And possibly reality as well. Henry had yet to put that hypothesis to the test, but he could not fathom what else he could be for other than inspiring rage or doing homework.

He would moan around his cock as he tried his hardest to get Henry just a little farther down his throat clearly loving every aspect of how it felt. If Henry didn’t know better he would think Richie wanted to choke on him. Dream Richie probably would have done this for any guy he could get his hands on but damn if the brat didn’t look good on his knees with one hand down his pants.

Henry would wake up with sticky sheets unable to remember if Richie even had eyes at all or if he just had glasses.

He threw the glasses off to the side. They were Richie’s problem, not his. Richie could get them later although they’d probably be cracked. Henry hoped they’d be cracked. It’s what he deserved.

From the way his mouth twitched it was obvious that Richie had something to say and it either wasn’t coming out naturally or Richie wasn’t letting it. Good. Henry wasn’t the smartest guy in town but he knew how meek Richie was around him compared to usual. That is until that day at quarry where for the first time Henry saw Richie deliberately be bold in his presence. Richie running from him at the arcade was a nice return to the status quo that Henry was released seemed to be continuing. Maybe the rock fight was just a one off fluke.

Richie’s eyes widened as Henry pressed his hips against him. Henry was already hard but he refused to be embarrassed. If anyone should be embarrassed it was Richie for provoking this reaction.

Henry sneered, “Don’t act surprised.”

He knew that Richie knew the truth about him. The two of them had something in common. At first it made Henry hate part of himself all that much more but that had recently turned into just hating Richie more. Because while he had no clue about Richie, not until he saw him all over his cousin at the arcade and figured it out, Richie had known all about Henry for a long time. He thought it was funny and laughed about it obnoxiously whenever he was out of earshot.

See, Henry almost never saw Patrick anymore. He didn’t live at home or anywhere else. These days he was mostly constrained to the echoes in the pipes. Once in a blue moon he would be inside his old refrigerator with all the puppies and leaches near the junkyard. He never seemed up to talking when Henry saw him there though. Instead he just lounged there unblinking and let the flies gather. His eyes were starting to cloud over but it didn’t bother Henry much since he figured Patrick never had a soul in the first place.

Sometimes Patrick would crawl out from under Henry’s bed and tell him all sorts of things. Lately it had all been about Richie. He told Henry about the things Richie did. Richie was quite the accomplished little slut it seemed. Patrick had a lot to say about how happily Richie bounced on men’s cocks and even more to say about the sounds he made when boys got him flat on his back. It made Henry jealous although he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be Richie in this situation or any and all of the guys that got to fuck him. Son of a bitch was always horny and Henry was completely right about Richie’s intentions towards Connor. Five more minutes and Richie would have had him bent over one of those arcade games. Patrick told him so.

When Patrick told him about how Richie knew what Henry tried so hard to conceal he felt his heart stop for a moment. All he could think to say was something about how Patrick now knew too. One person knowing, including Henry himself, was one too many and now it was up to three. He hated this. Patrick simply laughed at that. He didn’t stop. He was still laughing and Henry could hear him.

“I… I don’t… It’s just that… what?” Richie’s confusion was weirdly cute.

Henry rocked his hips, “Just what?”

Richie closed his eyes, “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I don’t intend to put it in,” not today anyway, “Just to touch.”

“I’ve always… well not with… but definitely…” Richie sighed, “Please. Just please.”

It took self restraint Henry didn’t have not to roll his eyes at that as he guided Richie’s hand to his zipper. Richie was noticeably shaking as he pulled Henry’s cock out. For a moment he did nothing but hold the thing in his hand and stare at it. Henry was about to say something when a faint smile appeared on Richie’s face and he began to work him up and down.

Richie’s pace was slow, much slower than Henry had ever been while touching himself. He did his best to savor everything about what Richie was doing from the firmness of his grip to his rhythm that as much as Henry liked he could not quite get used to while Richie was clearly trying to soak in every detail he could about Henry’s dick like the way it twitched and how it felt in his hand to long term memory.

Henry pressed his palm onto Richie’s crotch over the jeans and felt how hard he was. Richie whined and that sound was what it took to send Henry over the edge spilling into Richie’s hand. He didn’t last much longer after Henry. Hardly needed to be touched which seemed kinda pathetic. They stood there together for a few moments stunned.

When Henry finally caught his breath he zipped up his pants, “I swear to god if you tell anyone about this you’re dead.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” for a second it looked like Richie was missing his eyes but then Henry blinked and he looked perfectly normal again.


End file.
